Chapter 507

Chapter 507: The Popes of the Four Gods

When a storm came, mortals scattered in all directions at the roar of thunder. Yet the thunder itself did not care how mortals reacted. Its roar came only from its own existence. In the same way, the very existence of the Vanished was enough to interfere with the order of the entire Boundless Sea.

Under this premise, wondering whether “Captain Duncan” would care about being treated as a heretic by mortal churches became meaningless. That would be overestimating how much the people of this world could affect that being from the Subspace Shadows. And if one thought about it from another angle, the image of the Vanished in the eyes of the civilized world was never much better than that of a “heretic” anyway…

“I will discuss this with Popes Helena, Banster, and Frem,” Rune said to Morris. “There will certainly be voices of doubt and fear among the bishops, but the four of us should be able to reach a common stance quickly. Whatever the source of the news, the warning itself must be taken seriously.”

“I knew you would look at this calmly,” Morris’s voice carried a hint of relief. “You are still the same as back then.”

“You, however, are very different from back then, Morris,” Rune said with a sigh. “When I first heard you had fallen into a deep slump, many people were sorry about it. I did not expect you to pull yourself together again so quickly. I even less expected that your ‘recovery’… would come in the form of joining the Vanished. To be honest, after these long centuries, very few things can still shock me. This is one of the most shocking.”

“Life on the ship is actually not bad—one could even say it is better than living in a city-state. Life at sea brings some trouble, but here I see new things almost every day and deal with all kinds of things I had never even heard of before…”

“You already sound exactly like a crew member who is proud of his own ship,” Rune could not help saying. “I really am a bit curious. What exactly are you doing on that ship?”

Morris was silent for half a minute.

Many scenes flashed through his mind—giving lessons to Abyssal demons, to a cursed doll, and to demon contractors; racing in the Spirit Realm; eating Deep Sea spawn; keeping a fragment of the Sun company while it read; then watching as that fragment braised various heretic abominations that crawled out of books every day…

“…Active and wholesome academic research,” Morris said seriously.

“Oh, that does sound quite good.” Rune nodded, but could not help adding a warning. “Still, I must say that you should stay alert. Maybe, as you said, ‘Captain Duncan’ really has regained his humanity. But as a mortal, living on the Vanished and chatting easily with a Subspace Eldritch God is dangerous in itself. You must deal carefully with all unknown things and avoid letting your mind and understanding be affected…”

“Thank you for the warning, teacher, but please do not worry. You know I have always been a cautious student. Even back in the Academy, when I carried out the most dangerous research, I always made full preparations and never had an accident.”

Rune, who had returned to his seat behind the desk, fell silent at those words.

In his mind, the old elf could not help remembering the days many years ago when Morris studied at the Truth Academy.

Cautious… There were indeed many cautious students in the Academy, but not everyone understood that word the same way.

Some students, when they saw a dangerous tome, first tried to seal it away and stay as far from it as possible. That was called being cautious.

There was another kind of student. When they came into contact with forbidden knowledge, the first thing they did was gulp down half a bottle of mixed magic potions, hang themselves all over with charm amulets, and then prepare three largest-caliber pistols. They also called that being cautious.

The second kind of student had a high chance of dying suddenly. But the ones who survived often achieved great things. The most legendary scholars of the Truth Academy were often like that.

Yet even among the most legendary of them, none had ever reached the point of running off to the Vanished to chat and laugh with a Subspace Eldritch God.

After a long quiet, the elf behind the desk finally broke the silence in a low voice: “Morris…”

“Yes, teacher?”

“…You are someone who is meant to do big things.”

“Thank you for your expectations.”

“No, what I mean is, if one day the trouble you cause is really too big, you must tell me in advance. If I can help, I will help. If I cannot, at least I can run away early.”

“…”

The link created by the Psychic Communication broke. The resonance of thought and perception ebbed away like the tide. Rune narrowed his eyes slightly, feeling his former apprentice’s presence leave. Only after he confirmed that Morris’s mind had safely withdrawn from the psychic channel did he fully relax.

Yet a faint, strange noise, like countless people whispering under their breath, still lingered in his mind. It took a long time to fade.

Feeling how that noise affected his own mind, Rune could not help letting out a quiet sigh.

“…A permanent madness threshold, yet he can still stay clear and rational… This really is unbelievable. Is this also an effect from that ‘captain’?”

Muttering softly to himself, this elf—perhaps the most learned among all mortals—shook his head. Then he sat quietly by the desk, as if waiting for someone to come calling.

He did not wait long.

A hazy sound of waves suddenly rose in his mind and slowly grew into clear, rolling surf. Right after came calls of flame and death. Rune sighed at these calls, glanced at the alchemical vessel still reacting on the side table, and, after making sure there was enough material left inside, let his mind sink once more.

This study was his ritual ground for holding Psychic Communication. Every old shelf and solemn book here, along with the alchemy apparatus on the desk, served as part of the ritual.

Darkness surged up and then scattered like mist. At the end of a deep, dim passage, the figures of three Popes appeared: the Popes of the Deep Sea, of Death, and of Flamebearer.

Rune passed through the passage and came before his three old friends. He nodded slightly in greeting, and before they could speak, he said on his own: “It seems you have also received the news.”

“Banster and I each received messages from our own Saints,” said Helena, Pope of the Deep Sea. At the same time she pointed at the tall, silent figure across from her. “Frem just arrived. We only had time to tell him the general situation.”

The tall figure called Frem gave a small nod.

He was the leader of Flamebearer, the representative in the mortal world of Everburning Ember Tarrigan. In appearance, he was perhaps the most striking of the four Popes. His unusually tall body, rock-like gray, tough skin, and the metallic lines on that skin all showed his race.

He was a strong Senkin, dressed in a dark-gold robe that marked his role as Pope of Flamebearer. His short hair was gray-white, his features sharp, and he looked silent and extremely serious.

In recent times, this Pope of Flamebearer had been leading his patrol fleet along the borders of the civilized world and rarely took part in gatherings of the four Mortal Realms. This was his first appearance in some time.

“I still have not fully understood the situation,” Frem said. His voice was so deep it sounded like it came out of stone. “None of my Saints have been lured onto that ship yet.”

At his words, Helena’s expression turned strange. She frowned and said in a low voice: “Our Saints were not lured onto it either…”

“They met Captain Duncan. They were wary of Captain Duncan. They agreed with Captain Duncan. They joined Captain Duncan.” Frem glanced at Helena. His expression still looked like a stone. “I think that counts as being lured.”

Helena could only say: “…”

The tall, thin, and aged Pope of Death, Banster, coughed lightly when he saw this. “It is not your first day knowing Frem. He has always been like this.”

“…All right.” Helena was speechless for a moment, then nodded slowly. “We are not here today to talk about ‘Saints being lured onto the ship’. We are here to talk about the warning from the Vanished.”

Rune raised his head. “Do you have anything you want to ask?”

“Yes.” Helena spoke at once. Her eyes fell on Rune. “I want to know what those huge biological masses under the city-states really are. From the description, they sound very much like the Leviathan beasts that carry the Cathedral arks. Are they the same thing or not?”

“All four Cathedral arks were built by the Truth Academy. The technology to ‘revive’ and control Leviathans also came from you,” Banster added, turning to look at Rune as well. “But you have never told us where you found those ‘corpses’ of Leviathans, nor have you said anything about the link between those Leviathan beasts and the structures at the bottom of the city-states. We have reason to think the Truth Academy holds some special ‘truth’.”

Frem did not speak. He only kept his statue-like expression and calmly gazed into Rune’s eyes.

Faced with these three pressing gazes, Rune only spread his hands calmly.

“I also do not know what is under the city-states.”

“You do not know?” Helena’s eyes widened a little. “The Truth Academy ‘revived’ four Leviathans, and you say you do not know what the ‘Leviathan’ under the city-states is about?”

Rune only answered with a calm question of his own: “The storm Goddess Gamona is the Queen of the Leviathans. As her chosen, do you know more than I do?”

Helena frowned and did not speak.

“I believe you must have already tried asking the Leviathan that carries the great Storm Cathedral. I am sure it could not give you any answers—because even they themselves do not understand their own kind.”

Rune sighed and shook his head gently.

“The history of our world has been shattered. Even ancient giant beasts cannot clearly remember what happened before the Great Annihilation. Do you know, that ‘Captain Duncan’ even gave this phenomenon a name…”

“He calls it the ‘Horizon Limit’ on the time dimension.”